


We Could Be Reckless

by BNana



Series: NCT Dream One Shots [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied mental illness, Marriage Proposal, Summer, Sunburn, Swimming Pools, in like a very standard Americana way, its vague tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BNana/pseuds/BNana
Summary: Every summer since your second year in high school, somebody hosted a pool party. And every summer, starting the year after, you humored your crush-to-boyfriend by showing up. At this point, it was a ritual.Inspired by Mitski's cover of "Let's Get Married" by The Bleachers
Relationships: Mark Lee (NCT)/Reader
Series: NCT Dream One Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826464
Kudos: 20





	We Could Be Reckless

Work, in general, had been rough; lately, your life was filled with long nights of over-time and weekend phone calls and every single type of scheduling conflict in the book. Sure, from time to time you were rewarded with bonuses and days off and a recent promotion, but that never took away from the burning frustration to purely exist in the moment, to be able to appreciate everything you had built for yourself. 

Mindfulness, is what you heard that be called.

Still, you buried yourself in paperwork and meetings purely based on the fact that some wonderful time-off would find you eventually.

And it did, by late July, already too hot to really enjoy the nice weather and the stark sunlight but you're forced to make do. At the start, you felt like a kid again, lounging around in the weak breeze from an electric fan with absolutely no responsibilities to anyone (at least for the following week).

Your singular responsibility, though, if it could even be called that, was to your boyfriend, Mark, and his illustrious social life.

Your boyfriend- who, at the time, was being forcibly shoved off of a pool float, was always patient and welcoming for the precious spare moments you had given him over the past few months. Despite this, you knew he deserved so, so much more.

"Careful of his head," you warned, voice drowned out by the alternating calls of the crowd around him and the constant sloshing of water. Legs crossed, you daintily flipped to the next page of your thin novel, eyes quickly scanning the words instead of paying attention to their joking shouts. 

"How can we, it's huge!" "It's not like he'll lose any more brain cells, right?" "Do you think Mark's head could break the tiles?"

Tossing each other around, the boys send a sharp splash past the side of the pool, spreading droplets out that only barely reach the bottom of the stairs. Your positioning three steps up was strategic, of course, to prevent them from ruining your book and soaking your casual clothes. But lord, did that not stop them from trying.

"There's no way I can break the tiles, what are you talking about!" He hollers in return, rough and high-pitched in the way when he whines a little and you couldn't help but glance up to see the exasperated pinch in Mark's eyebrows. He doesn't catch you staring, so wrapped up in saving his own life, and you allowed yourself a thin smile of adoration.

Who does catch you staring, however, was one of the hosts, easily distracted despite her arms full of snack trays. "Why don't you join them?" She asks, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, Irene!" You gasp with a shocked smile as she simply continues walking. Although you have an explanation already fully prepared, she doesn't seem to care about the actual answer, moving instead in the direction of the patio table.

"Hey! Jisung, put the potted plant down!" With a shout, Wendy emerges from the glass door and, unlike Irene, you can distinctly hear her behind you.

The younger boy's head whips over and he quickly does as he's told. "I was just looking at it!" Jisung refutes and Wendy nearly snarls at him from across the yard, a threatening fist raised. Two bottles of wine are tucked semi-securely in her armpits.

Skipping down the stairs, she quickly notices you, smacking her butt down on the step and then looking- no, beaming at you, pretending she meant to do that. How this doesn't bruise her ass, you can't possibly begin to understand.

Preoccupied but not entirely oblivious to Wendy's proximity, you flip another page, about a third of the way done with the novel. The story was good so far, but you weren't emotionally invested at all. If you continued at your standard pace, you might be able to finish by tomorrow evening, but somehow you suddenly doubted that was possible. Wendy slowly leans in, attempting to examine your face, blank and calmly focused.

"Are you wearing full make-up right now?" She says cautiously with pursed lips, measuring your response based on your expression.

You and Wendy both knew it wouldn't be the first time you could find an excuse for conflict and she did not want to get on your nerves today.

You simply snort, a bit surprised that nobody else had noticed, or at least pointed it out. "Hi Wendy. And yes, I am. There was a meeting this morning." Blinking, you slide the bookmark in place and look up at her, faces only a few inches apart. When you exhale too heavily, maybe on a little bit on purpose, it blows hot air against her bangs and she winces. "I came straight from work. What planet were you on when I showed up? I was wearing a full pantsuit and heels, everyone was giving me shit."

Wendy's face squishes a bit, whether in contemplation or recalling the memory, until her eyes go wide again. "Oh, that's right!" She exclaims at her standard volume, relatively loud for a regular person, clapping her hands together and nearly dropping the two bottles in the process. "Congrats on your promotion!"

"Thank you." You reply with a polite nod, a fine line between your regular level of standoffish and actual appreciation.

As she opens her mouth, she's staring past you now and you slyly follow her eyeline to Mark, several feet back. Neither of them notice your attention as he seems to be making exaggerated hand motions in a silent protest.

You can't tell exactly what Mark is trying to communicate, but the best bet was something along the lines of 'stop talking to her before you guys get in a fight and make another huge scene'. No matter how much you insisted to Mark that you had matured since high school, he was still paranoid about any lingering resentment.

"I'd also like to thank you," you begin, seeing how Wendy's eyes bulge out as she attempts to respond to Mark with her facial expression alone, "for hosting, even if we've had to cut down big group stuff to every other month."

With a slightly nervous laugh, Wendy nods and takes the condensation-slick bottles into both hands. "Of course! I'm glad you could come. It’s good to get away from work sometimes." Her smile, somehow, is still absolutely beaming and, unfortunately, you had to agree with her.

Sensing the conversation has hit a comfortable peak, Wendy jumps up and treads down to meet Taeil and Johnny, waiting with a corkscrew. Yuta, likewise, floats nearby once Wendy has returned and hangs his forearms over the edge of the pool. The four of them chat for a moment, snapping off the foil covering from both bottles.

You return to your reading, leaning back on the wooden steps to angle yourself out of the sun. This position only lasts for a minute or two, as Taeil slowly saunters in your direction, a plastic cup teeming with red wine in one hand. Irene absolutely would not let her real glasses outside of the house- for good reason, with what happened on New Years.

"Hey," he greets with a wide smile, taking a sip before he's confident enough to carefully settle beside you without spilling. You can't help but wonder if Wendy sent him over here on purpose to get you to engage more. Calmly sighing, you close the binding as you sit up, not wanting to scare anyone off with your typical standoffish body language.

Taeil takes this as an invitation, which it almost was. "Are you not going to swim?"

After a slow inhale, you tap a finger on the hardcover binding of your novel. "I thought about it, but I'm not really in the mood."

"What kind of a reason is that? It's the middle of summer, we're here with a pool, why not use it?" Yuta shouts from below, kicking off and floating on his back as if he was proving a point. Unfortunately for you, the volume of his voice seems to alert a couple of others.

"Did you forget your suit?" Wendy's neighbor, who you never were properly introduced to, asks with a concerned frown spreading across her face. "You can borrow one of mine, but it might not fit around-"

"No," you cut in as she begins to motion around her chest. Besides her, Doyoung winces and slaps her hands down, not wanting to hear any more of that either. "There's a whole bag I brought, it's just in the car-"

"You're not swimming?" Donghyuck howls from the opposite side of the yard, as if this is the biggest betrayal of his life. A few people can't help but laugh, yet you feel suspiciously defensive, fearing someone might force you in anyway.

"She was at work this morning, give her a break!" Wendy shouts from where she's now met Jaehyun, pants rolled up, to dangle their legs in the deep-end. Jaehyun really had the right idea here, but you were not about to trust everyone to collectively be cool and not splash you if you joined them on the edge.

Or, worst case, drag you in.

As everyone splits off into shouting side conversations, Mark carefully curls up along the tile wall, arms stretched out along the surrounding stones. He's looking at you somewhat expectantly and if you weren't so paranoid, you would joyfully skip down to hold both hands. 

"Are you... feeling ok?" He cautiously asks, face somewhat conflicted. "The water is much cooler. If you stay out here for too long, you'll get hot."

Donghyuck has trotted over at this point, dancing along the few scalding spots on the stone walkway. "Woah, get a room," he snides, kicking at Mark's hands.

"Shut up!" Immediately, Mark starts blindly swinging his arms, nothing more than a frustrated cat's paw beneath the gap of a door; Donghyuck easily takes two steps to the side and is in the clear. There's a brief flash of eye contact where you can recognize the cogs turning in Mark's head, a moment of realization that if he splashes at Donghyuck he might indirectly hit you.

Donghyuck, already aware that Mark wouldn't dare, lets out a sharp laugh and continues his mischief. "Hey guys, Mark called [y/n] hot!" A few delighted whoops follow and Mark groans, pushing his slick hair from his eyes.

"You do know she's my girlfriend, right?" Mark shouts and you can't help but sigh and shake your head.

"So," you say, "you don't want me to come swim just so you can see me scantily-clad, right?" Besides you, Taeil lightly bumps against your shoulder, making an amused snort as he sips his wine. You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and lean forwards over your knees, practically batting your eyelashes at Mark. "I did happen to bring the suit with the halter tie, if that influences your opinion?"

Before anyone can tease him again, Mark dunks his reddened face underwater, sitting cross-legged at the bottom as long as he physically can. Donghyuck plops down on the edge, kicking up waves around Mark and they've finally distracted themselves enough to leave you alone.

A bit of time passes in peace, or at least the closest you can get to it. Taeil silently stays by your side for a bit, admiring the casual energy as everyone enjoys themselves, before eventually excusing himself inside. For a brief moment, you wonder if Jaemin and Kun are still hiding in there; more than an hour ago, you had snuck past on your way to change and caught a glimpse of them arguing about the best way to melt butter.

Finishing a chapter, you return the bookmark to its place and hop up, shuffling a few things in Mark's bag on the patio table to hide your book at the bottom. Ever consistent, Mark packed two sticks of lip balm too many, three types of painkillers, and even has several granola bars tucked away in case you get hungry on the way home. Since he took your advice and brought a bag this time, at the very least, he won't forget his things in someone else's car.

As much as you claimed to not mind two years prior, having to text around the following day to figure out who carpooled with who was a huge undertaking.

You apply a thin layer of lip balm, just at the corners, careful to not smudge your hours-old lipstick. Jaehyun absentmindedly passes you a matching plastic cup and permanent marker from where he's sat, cross-legged, on a chair in the shade. Silently, you scrawl your own name and add a small heart at the end for good measure. God forbid anyone accused you of being unapproachable today.

Yuta, curled up in a towel now with the wet ends of his hair clinging to his neck, gives you a wide grin. "Anything particular you're looking for?" He asks, giddy, and leaning forward while you survey the array of colorful bottles and pitchers covering the table. "I could mix you something."

"Mmm... no," you hum, admiring how much the spread has varied since last year. Having nearly everyone in attendance drinking would certainly do that, you supposed. "Just lemonade, for now. Is there ice?"

Yuta stifles his laughter and shakes his head. "Lucas was supposed to buy some, but he's late. Nobody else wants to bite the bullet."

You have to stop yourself from immediately offering; they could have asked when you showed up too. If you left now and got stuck in traffic on the return trip like last year, Mark might end up sulking again. Sure, you went out on errands and milkshake runs semi-frequently during events like these, but, contrary to Mark's beliefs, it wasn't some secret tactic to avoid interacting with anyone.

Well, it wasn't _always_.

"It's fine, though," Yuta insists, scratching at an eyebrow, "Wendy put some plastic storage containers filled with water in the freezer. You could go hack at one of those, if you want."

When you can't help but grimace, Jaehyun lets out a deep chuckle. During a quick stop in the kitchen earlier, you did distinctly notice her freezer was filled with several clear containers.

The weather today wasn't overwhelmingly hot enough to be worth it. Instead, you simply slump down in the seat beside Jaehyun, reaching forwards to pour lukewarm lemonade about halfway up your cup.

Sensing you've accomplished your goal, Jaehyun stretches forwards, pinching his nose for just a second. "So," he says as an exhale, letting his tense shoulders fall. "You haven't gotten tired of seeing all of us yet, huh?"

"What do you mean?" You respond with a chuckle, trying to play off the fact that Jaehyun was distinctly aware of how you tended to avoid social gatherings.

"It's been a couple of years and you’re still showing up. How long have you and Mark been together by now?"

"Hey-" Yuta cuts in quickly, standing. "I'm gonna head inside. Are you sure you don't want any ice?" You shake your head but quickly thank him anyways. You wonder if the conversation made him uncomfortable, charging up the stairs with impatient, heavy footsteps.

Not even a moment passes before Wendy's neighbor wanders towards the table, drying her hand off before snagging a few tortilla chips and settling into the same seat Yuta had just emptied. She wrings her hair out and glances upwards at Jaehyun, hands folded in his lap. If you were actively paying attention, you might have assumed she was waiting for him to say something to her.

Now was probably a good situation to try and sneakily deduce her name without looking like an asshole. Despite that, you decided that you... honestly didn't care enough and any attempts of 'hey could you put yourself as a contact in my phone?' would just invite more of a hassle. The two options were (1) spend the rest of your life not knowing until maybe she or Wendy and Irene move, or (2) ask Mark in the car later.

Whichever you picked, this was not a conversation you were about to have in this exact moment. Jaehyun seems to note your hesitation, so he gives his best charming-but-not-too-charming smile to lighten the mood. "So, anyway, it’s been at least a few years, huh?"

You hum, mentally reviewing what month it was; time seemed to fly by lately and you weren't sure if it was because you were doing too much or not enough. "Our five year anniversary just passed, if you count high school."

"Why wouldn't you count high school?" Jaehyun asks, a measured raise of his eyebrow.

"I dunno. I kind of sucked. Definitely didn't expect to last this long." You give a simple shrug, holding a hand out across the table until Wendy's neighbor gets the hint and places three tortilla chips delicately in your palm.

"How did you two start dating in the first place?" She says, smiling as you slip one in your mouth.

You purse your lips into a soured pout as you crunch and chew. It wasn't necessarily the same kind of sweet, pure story as most people expect from young love, and Jaehyun, at least, knows as much; his eyes search for any sign that he should derail the conversation.

"It's..." Complicated, is what you want to say, once you've swallowed. That felt like a cop-out, though, and would probably only invite more questions. Or, worst-case scenario, invite any amount of pity. "We were in a band together."

"Really?" She gives an excited gasp and, as subtle as possible, you suck in air through your teeth with a hiss. "What instrument did you play?"

Everybody already knew Mark had been playing guitar for years and Wendy had been playing piano for years, so you were always the mystery. "Drums," you reply plainly, licking the salt from your finger and leaving a smear of lipstick along one nail. You decided to delicately omit the fact that you started playing drums per recommendation from a therapist, in order to "express your frustrations in a healthy and productive way".

She's nodding, possibly in thought about other questions that you'll inevitably have to answer, per social expectations. In the brief moment of silence, you reach forward for a paper napkin, cleaning off your finger and trying to blot off as much excess lipstick from your mouth without making yourself look like a clown.

Irene, passing by again to clear some emptied containers from the table, glances down as you neatly fold the napkin. "Do you want wipes?"

"Hm?" You turn your head, not fully aware of what she said.

"Make-up wipes. Whether you go swimming or not, it's no fun to sweat foundation."

You blink once, looking down at the napkin stained dark pink. "Oh- uh, sure, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Irene replies, a pretty smile curling her lips but her eyes still looked a bit tired. "There should be some in the downstairs bathroom, second drawer, I think." 

"Right, thanks." You hesitate to stand up, though. Wendy's neighbor has now leaned in, whispering something to Jaehyun who returns a patient, amused smile. You swallow down the paranoia that they were talking about you.

Something catches your attention, a bug or voice or breeze, or even the sun's reflection off the wavering surface of the pool. You notice Mark across the yard, about halfway down the length of the pool, sitting on the edge. His hands are holding the ground on either side, shoulders hunched up slightly as he's laughing at whatever Yeri and Renjun are arguing about. The sight is both comforting and alienating, making you feel like a stranger so far away.

Your gaze is focused on his bare skin, so starkly contrasted by harsh shadows from the sun.

"Hey, babe?" You call out, amplified as Doyoung and then Wendy both notice, repeating Mark's name until his attention finally settles on you. With one hand, you wave him over and he immediately drops whatever conversation he was involved with.

"What's up?" He says once he's within only a few feet, followed by a lovely little trail from his dripping shorts and wet footprints. Instinctively, he leans down and you press a small kiss on his cheek for the first time today.

"Are you burning?"

"Huh?" Mark gives a nervous chuckle when he notices Jaehyun making an exaggerated expression behind your back. Raising a hand, you gently pull him down again, not quite eye-level, and pass the pads of two fingers along his cheekbones, hot to the touch. "Is it red?” He asks, gritting his teeth. “I put sunscreen on like an hour and a half ago."

You nod and Wendy's neighbor hums in agreement, even wincing a little bit, barely hidden behind the lip of her cup. "Maybe you should take a break. I'll reapply on your shoulders, let's go inside," you suggest, entwining your fingers with his and pulling him up the stairs.

"Wait, we don't have t-" He doesn't fight back physically but there's some hesitation at first. Over your shoulder, you just roll your eyes and he lets it happen with a small pout.

Once inside, you don't break away until you've led Mark to sit at the kitchen table, letting your thumb run along his knuckles quickly before releasing your iron grip. "Don't you dare run away," you say, a half-threat, prodding at his nose with your pointer finger.

All he does is nod, and you rush off to grab your bag from the car. Closing the front door softly, you hear Mark talking in impatient, hissing whispers; once you've rounded the corner, Jaemin immediately coughs when he sees you emerge from the front hall.

"Sup?" He greets flatly, pivoting in a swift motion to his previous spot at the sink where he had been washing dishes. Quickly, your eyes dart from him to Mark, who is attempting to look casual by picking at his nails- as if you didn't know his nervous tics. Lingering bickering was not necessarily anything new, but the fact that they both shut up when you came in made your teeth grind, just a little. And Mark definitely knew that.

"What's going on?" You ask, gentle enough that a stranger wouldn't be frightened but Jaemin most definitely is.

"Baking," he says and the response is just a second too fast. You raise an eyebrow at Mark as if the two of them were brothers who had broken something and you were betting on your boyfriend to crack first.

And he does, of course, he always did because most people were better liars. "It was supposed to be a surprise!" He exclaims, followed by a frustrated grumble that has him scrunching his face and then wincing in pain from the sunburn sprinkled across his features. You sigh and scoot a chair out to sit at eye level with Mark, cupping his face in your palms, gentle enough to not hurt him.

"Mark?"

He matches your gaze, dark eyes wide and shaking. "They were- um, doing me a favor. I wanted to surprise you," Mark groans, jutting his bottom lip out.

Jaemin clears his throat, towel slung over one shoulder as he leans against the kitchen's island. "For your promotion," he clarifies, before swiftly standing again and retrieving two oven mitts from the drawer. "He wanted us to make a cake. But-" Jaemin comes around the counter and you only notice now that the oven is running. "As nice a gesture as it is, she already noticed, dude."

Mark's head whips up and you let your hands drop. His head darts from you to Jaemin and back again. "What?"

"Yeah," you exhale, "I saw them when I changed earlier. Though, I kinda assumed it was for your birthday or something."

Mark blinks, a look of pure dumb confusion. You scoff, more from surprise than frustration, and Mark holds his hands up, trying to protect himself. "No, no. I did _not_ forget my birthday was next week. The timing was weird since you knew your boss kept having individual meetings. I wasn't think-" He stops when you shut him up with a quick kiss. Jaemin, from the corner of the kitchen, gives an exaggerated laugh as he brings the two cake tins onto the countertop.

You pull back, run a hand across your face, and shake your head with a grin. "For my promotion, huh? That's very nice of you."

"More like, nice of me-" Jaemin corrects, not even bothering to glance up as he tested the centers with a toothpick. Mark bounces his knee and you sense the urge to throw something but there's nothing handy, so you soothe your boyfriend with a pat on the head.

"It was supposed to be this whole thing where we write your name and bring it outside later," Mark says with a sigh, slouching in the chair so his head settles on the wooden frame. "The idea itself was taking a chance," Mark remarks, letting his eyes fall closed, "because I didn't want you to feel all self-conscious or anything. But you've been working so hard and I thought you deserved a chance to feel special."

A sudden bubbling feeling in your chest has you letting out a sigh of relief- at what, you're not sure. Maybe it was a reminder of something you sometimes forgot: you deserved to be loved.

Jaemin, with a lazy smile, continues glancing your way until he's placed both circular cakes on wire racks and set the empty pans. "Why don't you two decorate it together?" Jaemin suggests, producing a frosting bag and a handful of piping tips from the bottom drawer.

"Maybe in a little bit?" You reply, some hesitance, and Mark peeks one eye open. With graceful precision, you line up the two bottles on the table, retrieved from where they had fallen to the bottom of your bag. "Sit up again, sweetheart."

Jaemin shakes his head, wiping a hand off on the dishtowel before placing it on the edge of the counter and leaving the room. It's quiet for a moment until you pop the cap. Mark tilts his head back down but his eyes are closed again. Briefly, you wonder if he's been as tired as you are lately.

You admire the way the apex of each cheekbone was now painted a beautiful bright pink, a step beyond sun-kissed that made Mark appear to have a consistent nervous flush. The appearance wasn't too unique with how easily Mark got flustered, but maybe it was that exact sense of familiarity that made your eyes linger there.

Mark hums a pleased noise as you spread the cooling gel across that same area, pressing the pad of your finger in gentle circles across the curve of his nose. He squirms slightly when you brush his hair, lightly pinching the tops of his reddened ears. It's hard to tell if that was the sunburn or just his nerves.

"Are you upset?" He finally asks after several minutes of silence, now straddling the chair backwards as you work on his shoulder blades.

"I'm fine," you insist, though you're not entirely sure that's true. "You had good intentions, you were trying to do something nice for me. I can't get mad about that, hmm?" To punctuate the point, you kiss the spot where his spine meets his neck and Mark shudders, making you break out in a thin, proud smile.

"Ok," he says as a simple murmur, and that's that.

At the spots that don't seem as red, you massage the knuckle of your thumb into the muscles of his back. Mark slips out a soft groan of appreciation.

"Sometimes, I just-" He catches himself, leaning forward until his forehead meets the back of the chair. With a hum, you prompt him to continue, wiping the excess aloe along the curve of his spine and sitting up to trade out bottles.

"I feel like I have to find ways to do things for you, in some crazed desperation. In all honesty, I don't know what I'm doing but whatever it is, it isn't enough. D- does that make sense?"

You pursue your lips, watching and waiting for the aloe to dry until you open the sunscreen. "Yes and no? I wish you didn't feel that way, but I understand the idea of it, I guess."

"Well-" Mark clears his throat. "all I'm saying is that I wish I could be better for you. You're so smart and impressive and everything," he says, holding the sides of his head in both hands, "then it makes me wonder what I'm doing, why I'm here, if I'm just holding you back-"

"Mark."

He stops, taking a deep breath. "Against all odds, even with your crazy schedule and all the phone calls and meetings and therapist appointments, you always find a way to keep track of everything for both of us. That's half the reason why your brain is always swimming, right? But I'm over here, some asshole, right? I'm just sitting around and forgetting to take out the trash and not knowing the name of your prescriptions. If anything happened to you, I'd be useless."

"Do you think something's going to happen to me, babe?" Confused, you scan whatever body language you can pick up from his back alone, trying to figure out where this is coming from. "Would it help to sit in on my session next week?"

Mark roughly shakes his head. "No, no, sorry. That's your time." He sits up again, stretching out his shoulders and neck. "Maybe I've gotten all comfortable having you home the past few days, so I'm getting paranoid about what happens when you start work again next week."

"You're a big boy," you remind him with a chuckle, "I believe in you. You're doing fine as is. You’re such a hard worker, so it’s important to take time to value yourself too." You squirt a dollop of sunscreen into your hand and use it to give Mark a rough, wet smack on the back, making him jump.

"Hey-"

"I need to know that _you_ know that you're doing fine. If you change, if you don't change, you're still Mark." Gently now, your palm smooths along his shoulder and you set the bottle down to use both hands. "Putting pressure on yourself to be perfect or comparing our achievements won't help anything."

Still with a disgruntled edge, he sighs because he knows you're right. "I love you, you know?"

"Thanks," you reply, never hesitating your work against his skin.

A second passes before Mark whips around to face you. "Come on, that's not fair! You're supposed to say it back! You know I hate being the one to say it first!" He's whining so you can't help but laugh.

"Ok, ok. I love you too."

Once you've finished on Mark's back, nearly half an hour has passed before you’re finally washing your hands.

"Everyone's gonna be suspicious if we're gone any longer," you inform him from across the kitchen, Mark still sitting at the table and now absentmindedly leafing through your bag.

"Did you bring your night-time dose? We might be here a bit late and I don't want you passing out without it as soon as we get home."

You dry your hands on the same towel Jaemin left out and skip over. "It's in there somewhere. I didn't bring my whole pillbox this time." He blindly reaches around and pulls his hand out, producing the top half of your swimsuit. Like a hot iron, he immediately drops the fabric and you let out a soft giggle.

"If you sit in the shade for a bit, maybe I'll swim a little?" You suggest and Mark stares at you, unsure if this was a promise or a threat.

"I- I guess," he stumbles, swallowing thickly and you want to tell him that this is why everyone teases him for being a 'good Christian boy'. You grin, reaching past him to fish out the top and wherever the bottoms were hiding.

In all honesty, it had been a while since you wore this swimsuit- or, well, anything with a tied top. Despite being more than a full month into the summer, your previous schedule didn't leave a lot of room for lounging.

"Are you dying in there?" Mark calls from the kitchen, not realizing you took an extra five minutes to locate and use Irene's make-up wipes to clear your 'professional face'.

"Coming!" With a shout, you appear from around the bathroom door, hands occupied to hold up the halter. "Can you tie this for me?" Immediately, you turn around, though normally you would enjoy watching the embarrassed movements he made.

"What is this supposed to be, huh?" Mark mumbles, hands cold now as they meet your neck.

"What do you mean?"

He doesn't respond, only a small huff at your feigned innocence as he pulls the ties up to match how you're holding it. You wait a minute, curious if he'll clarify. "Mark, does it seem like I'm trying to seduce you? Is that it?"

His fingers hesitate before he's rushing to continue. "A little bit." He finishes the tie, jostling it a little to make sure everything was secure.

You spin around on your heel to face him, a thin smile curling your lips. "Well, is it working, kitten?"

Ever quick on the draw, Mark takes one retreating step and tilts his chin to look away. "Yoooo come on," he complains, pinching his face up in a way that probably makes the sunburn hurt again, "I'm not going to answer that, babe."

Figuring you shouldn't torment him any longer, you pass by with a laugh and light tap on his shoulder. Both of you return outside and Mark, in some odd protective display, makes a point of walking in front of you.

"You certainly took your time," Yeri comments, mouth full of grapes, as she meets you on her way inside. In lieu of replying, you send her a withered scowl when her eyes draw up and down your now-scantily clad form.

"Are you actually getting in? You're not going to sunbathe or some shit?" Donghyuck practically beams as you and Mark pass by on the stairs, Jisung at his side intentionally turning away until you reach the bottom. Certainly, this wasn't the _first time_ you've ever been in a swimsuit around them, but it also wasn't exactly a common occurrence. Jisung, at the very least, held some passing paranoia that either you, Mark, or _both_ of you would smack him for gawking.

Honestly, that assumption wasn't necessarily wrong, for multiple reasons. Mark never claimed to _not_ be possessive in his own weird way, but you were also suspicious that he just did it so you didn't feel uncomfortable.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, didn't care about social graces and so he immediately stopped toweling off his hair to follow after, a lost duckling as the three of you make your way into the water. When you hesitate halfway in, Donghyuck gives you an equally playful and encouraging shove from behind so you can't change your mind.

Although you want to act mature, you can't help yourself from surfacing and immediately shoving back, dodging around Wendy free-floating. For the first time in a while, you let yourself have thoughtless fun - no work, no bills, no responsibilities. Even when you were younger, you were never allowed to be young and reckless, and so, for the longest time, you thought you could learn to live without it.

Sometimes it's so freeing to not give a shit.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Doyoung eventually intervenes and Donghyuck gets bored and Mark excuses himself to fulfill his earlier promise. Eventually, you notice Mark across the way, curled up in a patio chair under the shade of an umbrella, a towel carefully draped over his shoulders and the top of his head. Drifting aimlessly, you finally settle into a pool float with Donghyuck hanging off the side, chin resting on his forearm.

"Aren't you so tired all the time?" He mumbles, kicking his legs beneath the surface of the water to make subtle waves.

"What do you mean?" You don't bother looking up, one arm draped across your forehead to block the sun.

"With Mark," Donghyuck clarifies, a hint of forced-apathy. “Is it like living with a baby, or does he only act like that outside the house?" You laugh a bit too loudly, though you're still not entirely sure what he means by that.

"You're just jealous that Mark gets more attention than you," Taeil chides in, sitting on the stone walkway a few feet off. Donghyuck swings out an arm, threatening to splash him.

Exhaling, you turn onto your side to face Donghyuck. "Mark is plenty capable. I always get him to make phone calls for me- I haven't had to order take-out myself in five months.” You wiggle until you're properly balanced on the float. "It's nice to take care of someone. Sometimes I think he plays it up a bit extra."

Donghyuck huffs, whining something about separating the role of parents from significant others and you don't necessarily feel strongly enough to agree either way.

Figuring this is your best chance all summer, you lay in the sun until your back is sore and the light starts to fade past Wendy's roof. By the time dusk comes, everyone has changed or, at least, mostly covered up, and eventually convened inside, clearing the porch and patio and lazily-kept yard beyond.

At some point, you convince Jaemin to let the group decorate the cake together. No candles are lit, you don't need to be the center of attention, but it's a joint effort. In the end, the presentation is horrible but it still tastes fine. With everyone distributing slices, you slip away with your paper plate to the edge of the water.

A few people linger outside across the stairs and deck, but by the time Mark finally spots you, nobody's particularly in earshot. For a bit, the two of you just talk quietly, Mark trying to feed you cake with his eyes closed and you sneak a kiss in here or there. Quietly, you chastise him for almost dropping crumbs in the water, which Irene would literally ignite a witch hunt for.

It's dark now, harsh shadows cast by the distant porch lights. Sparse fireflies sprinkle the air and a comfortable breeze rolls in, chilling you and leading Mark to pull in closer.

"Wendy should cut her grass more often," you note, squinting in order to pick out all the sprigs of tall grass and clovers and weeds and occasional small blooming flowers out in the darkness.

"That's probably not a priority for them," Mark says with a laugh, patting down his pockets. "Should we listen to some music? I think I left my phone inside, though."

"Oh," you glance up, motioning past him where the frosting-stained plate has been pushed to. "My phone's over there still. I had it in my back pocket."

"Wouldn't want to crush it with your butt." Mark nods, almost solemnly and you smack his arm. He grins, unlocking your phone and scrolling through. "You better have more on here than that boring easy-listening stuff you use to fall asleep, hm?"

The question makes you think for a moment and Mark gasps at the hesitation. "Sh- ok, shut up, first of all-" You scold him, a bit flustered as you waggle your toes underwater. 

Mark doesn't respond again, furrowed eyebrows and lips pinched as he stops scrolling. Unknown to you until it's too late, he taps on a single file with a title that, understandably, caught his interest. The volume is so quiet that you can't even tell at first.

Then, the first few notes play out, the soft sound of your recorded humming makes your head whip up. "Hey-"

Just as you would call out or snatch your phone away, which would probably only result in knocking it into the water, a slow grin creeps onto Mark's face. "I didn't know you were still writing stuff. Why is my name on this?"

"That's not-" You cut yourself off, feeling breathless as the sound of your voice rings out through the night air, almost bouncing off the surface of the water. Mark gazes out across the yard, starry-eyed and you swallow hard, gripping your knees.

There was nothing else you could do but squeeze your eyes shut and hope he wouldn't overthink it. You can literally hear his breath hitch as his brain processes the lyrics.

**_"Let's get married."_ **

He doesn't look in your direction, not at first- not until the song transitions into the next verse. You tuck your chin in, holding your breath and his hand, uneasy and tentative, lands on your shoulder. Mark stays silent as well, waiting until the song finally fades out and the next file to automatically play is, as he expected, an easy-listening instrumental.

"Hey," he says, so painfully gentle that you have to fight against tears you didn't know were coming. "Look at me. Sweetheart, please look at me?" It's not an order, he's begging you and you have to comply. After three seconds of direct eye contact, you choke out a sob and he actually smiles. "Is this real? Is this for me?"

"We're going to get pruney soon," you say weakly, after too long. "You don't have to stay, Mark." Mark gives a frustrated groan, reaching forward to hold your head as he presses your foreheads together.

An exhaled laugh has his warm breath hitting your face and you can still pick up the lingering scent of the single vodka cranberry he had a few hours ago. "Are you kidding?" He asks, voice so quiet and deeper than normal. "Do you seriously think that I haven't considered this?"

A cricket chirps in the distance and you feel like you're hallucinating. "You don't... you don't think it's too early or anything? You don't think I'm jumping the gun?" Mark smooths down your hair as you talk. "I spent so fucking long trying to figure out how to ask you and you didn't even let me do it right."

"I guess now we're even since my promotion celebration for you got spoiled earlier?"

You huff harshly and he pulls away, kissing the tip of your nose twice for good measure.

"I'll be honest," Mark mumbles, "I'm surprised. Not in a bad way, but-" He clears his throat, wedging your phone in-between your thighs, what has become a habit. "Every part of it is so expensive and such a big deal- you spend months wallowing about being forced to visit your parents on holidays." Uncomfortable at the mere mention of your family, he fiddles with some strands of hair. "So I never expected for you to want that sort of thing. Obviously, you're doing good at work now but- ugh, I know you said not to worry about it earlier, but I feel like I should be contributing more."

"Mark Lee, are you afraid of not being the primary breadwinner? Huh? The man of the house?" Finally, you're cracking a smile and he lets out an exasperated guffaw, partially satisfied that the mood has at least been lifted. "You can be my sugar baby, if you want. I won't think any less of you."

"Shut up! Don't make me regret this!" He whines, a little too loudly, it seems, because you hear someone from the patio yelling for you two to get a room.

You bring one hand up to drag your fingers across his cheekbones like you had earlier, still quite warm but you can't tell if it's from the sunburn or a creeping blush. "So? You want to?"

He jumps beneath the touch, trying to discern if you're referring to the marriage or sugar baby proposal. Running a hand through his hair, sticking up in places from where it dried unevenly, he swishes his legs in the water and bumps his toes against yours. "Do you want to say it properly? If we're breaking gender stereotypes already?"

You snort and he sets a supportive hand on your leg. "Mark, let's just get married. It doesn't have to be right now, we don't have to rush it. Just... eventually."

He squeezes your leg once and nods his head down, suddenly as bashful as you had been a moment ago. "Yeah, you're right. We don't have to rush it," he agrees, looking back up at you. "Sure."

In the car on the way home, his hand wanders to your thigh again, giving that same reassuring squeeze. By then, it doesn't matter what Wendy's neighbor's name is or if you forgot your towel on the patio. What matters is that you know you're both there and that there's now this underlying, silent promise that neither of you was going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> against all odds I have finally finished this.... effectively no proofreading, we die like men  
> check me out at bnanaz on tumblr, which I am now vaguely active on ✨


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